They walked a rocky shore in sunset.
“You made this?” she asked.
“An imaginary place created from childhood memories,” the old writer answered.
“As you imagined me?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “But we’re all imaginary characters in the end.”
“Well, you’re real to me.”
Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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I think being real to each other is the only way we CAN be real!
It’s like “if I tree falls and no one is there to hear it… Does it make a sound?”… If I’m in a world all alone with no one to be real with… Would I still be real? Could I just be a figment of my own imagination? Or is it “I think, therefore I am?” 🤔….. Why are all of my comments this morning winding up way too over the top for 9am?? 😂😂
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Are we real, out here in the ether..?
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